Celebrations
by IcarusForgotten
Summary: Cain gets drunk and passes out, and Keeler talks Abel into playing a dangerous prank.


"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"I've had enough when I say I've had 'nough," Cain snarled, speaking into an empty shot glass rather than at Abel, who tried real hard to stifle his laughter – he was supposed to be concerned.

In lieu of a successful battle simulation, Cain and Abel were treated to drinks with Keeler and Encke at the ship's only pub. At first the situation was rather tense, with Cain still trying to live down the time his pride was hurt by Encke at the fighter brawl, and with Abel fidgeting every time Keeler so much as looked in his direction or brushed his fingers curiously across Abel's shoulder. Encke seemed oblivious to the tensions surrounding the drinking crew – that or he really didn't give a shit and just kept on trolling everyone with his poker face – but Keeler was full aware of the anxious vibes coming off the Reliant team.

Keeler ordered them all two rounds of drinks to start the night. Encke remained expressionless, just grabbing for his jug as though this was some kind of regular occurrence for him. Cain simply smirked and snatched his drink from the tray, chugging it like a wild animal. Abel sat there, clearly uncomfortable; even more so as Keeler handed him his drink. Abel looked up at him, eyes questioning – because there had to be an ulterior motive to this, didn't there? – and quickly looked away when his eyes met Keeler's, taking the jug swiftly, and sipping with his gaze directed towards the floor.

It had been like that for the first few rounds of alcohol: awkward silence and avoided glances. But as the alcohol continued to pour into the evening, courtesy of Keeler, the men began to loosen up.

Encke was beginning to smile. He actually wasn't so scary when he wasn't constantly scowling, Abel thought. And Keeler just seemed . . . more Keelery. He was giddier than usual, true, but he was still flipping his hair and fluttering his eyes every once in a while, like always, just at a much higher frequency of occurrence than he usually did.

And Cain . . . Cain was a category all to himself. After the first drink, he undid the zipper at the back of his uniform and pulled it down to his waist. He glared at anyone who so much as glanced at him, within and beyond their little drinking group. God, he was being ridiculous, thought Abel, who tried his best to keep his eyes away from Cain's naked chest in the presence of his superiors. Besides, he knew that Cain was doing this all for show. It's not like he could actually get drunk off of a single beer.

When everyone had loosened up enough to actually begin conversing with each other, Keeler signalled for the bartender to bring over some shots. After several of those, things had begun to get a little out of control.

Cain, after submerging himself with tens of shots (on top of the five jugs of beer he'd consumed), smashed his shot glass to the floor and climbed up onto the bar counter, the ends of his uniform swaying with his hips as he fought for balance against a sudden vertigo. He wailed incomprehensible lyrics to a melancholy instrumental piece resonating throughout the pub. Cain snatched up Abel's half full shot glass and emptied it in a single gulp, utilizing it as a microphone once he was sure he'd gotten every last drop of alcohol out of it.

Abel was mortified – he ducked his head, trying his best to hide his face behind the stack of emptied beer jugs, because lord knows someone would be able to remember this moment, and it was only a matter of time before he'd get called out for being associated with it.

Encke ignored Cain, still smiling like a happy idiot, and Keeler just leaned his head against his palm with his elbow resting against the counter, eyes half lidded and seductively staring down Abel through the thick rings of foam in the jugs he was hiding behind, looking like he was mentally undressing him. Abel caught Keeler's gaze and quickly turned his head, focusing his attention back to Cain, who was now in the process of stripping out of the rest of his flight suit, fumbling in his drunkenness with which end was which.

Abel started to feel a little green. He all but begged Cain to get off the counter and finish drinking for the night.

"Not gonna happen," he slurred, jerking his arms around for emphasis. The longer he remained on the counter, the more wildly he swayed.

The bartender looked up from cleaning his display and shot Cain a dirty look, storming into the storage room soon after. Despite his drunken stupor, Cain didn't fail to notice the nasty look that was given to him by the bartender. "Damn right you'd better run off." The words came out a garbled, meaningless slur.

"Cain!" Abel warned.

Cain kicked at him, missed, and did a graceless pirouette with his gained momentum, landing butt first onto the counter.

Right at that moment, the bartender returned from the storage room, armed with a bristly broom, and prodded at Cain with the bushy end to get him off the counter. Cain growled and reached out for the broom, ripping it out of the bartender's hands and snapping it in half. He snarled and clumsily reached out for the collar of the frightened bartender, narrowly missing, his body curving violently, and landing face first into Abel's lap.

"Get him out of here!" the bartender screamed. "And don't come back unless you put him on a leash!"

Keeler sighed. "Too bad. And we were having such a great time." He turned to Encke and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. "I'll meet you back at our quarters. I'm just going to help Abel get Cain back to their room."

Encke frowned, and for a moment it looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it when his eyes connected with Keeler's. He gave a curt nod and paid his portion of the tab, leaving the money in a neat, organized array in front of the bartender, and walked out of the pub without a second glance.

Keeler turned to Abel and offered him a kind smile. "Shall we?"

Abel nodded, confused, albeit grateful that he wouldn't be stuck dragging Cain up to their room alone. He looked down at his lap, eyeing Cain's unmoving figure. He could hear Cain snoring lightly. How much did he have to drink to pass out like that? That was very unlike Cain.

Abel sighed, guiltily regretting that he had emptied some of his drinks into Cain's empty glasses when he wasn't looking.

Oh well, what's done was done. He sighed again and forced a smile up at Keeler.

* * *

"Careful now, careful . . . there . . ."

Somehow, the two of them had managed to get Cain safely into bed, with minimal injury. There had only been a small accident at the lift, where Abel was momentarily distracted with the way Keeler's hair clung to his sweat-clad face as he concentrated to keep hold of Cain's weight. Abel wasn't paying attention to where he was walking, and bumped into someone coming out of the lift, banging Cain's head against the wall as his instinct commanded him to turn in surprise. It was Praxis, staring at him with a curious gaze. Abel started to open his mouth in explanation, but Praxis waved his hand dismissively, walking away as quickly as he could, leaving Abel flushed and flustered. His face got even redder as he caught the amused look directed at him from Keeler. Abel made sure to keep his mind focused on the task at hand the rest of the journey to his room.

"Thank you Keeler, sir." Abel bowed his head slightly, no longer entirely sure of what he was doing.

Keeler chuckled. "Oh come now, Abel, no need to be so formal." Then a sly look spread across his features and he broke into a wicked grin. "Say, Abel. How would you like to play a little prank on your fighter?"

"A prank, sir?" Abel furrowed his brows in confusion.

Keeler sauntered smoothly over to Abel, leaning in real close and whispering into his ear, "after all, he did embarrass you at the pub earlier. Wouldn't it be fun to . . . get him back for that?"

"I-I suppose," Abel stuttered, mouth suddenly dry. Was Keeler implying what he thought he was?

"Come now, you don't sound so certain," Keeler purred, gently placing a hand on Abel's shoulder, leaning in closer to his ear, hot breath making Abel shiver all the way down his spine as Keeler whispered in what Abel though was the most seductive taunt: "I always carry extra hair bands with me. What do you say we . . . play with them a little?"

Abel weakened, falling limp against Keeler's body. Holy shit, did he just say what Abel thought he said? Was he reading these implications correctly?

Keeler soothed Abel's quivering back with a gentle caress, pressing his body against Abel's to keep him upright.

"Hmmm . . . Abel, i think you should get to bed soon." Keeler pressed him harder against his body. "But first, let's take care of this little prank. It won't take long, I promise."

Abel raised his head from Keeler's shoulder and looked at him with eyes wide and mouth parted, his breathing becoming less subtle by the second. Keeler winked down at Abel, let go of him and reached into his pocket, pulling out two bright pink elastic bands. He walked over to Cain and bunched up his hair, tying the dark mass into a set of perky pigtails. He then proceeded to take a small camera out of his other pocket and took a picture of Cain, mouth agape and drool leaking off the side of his face as he snored contently.

Satisfied with his work, Keeler walked past Abel and blew him a goodnight kiss, murmuring a soft "good night" as he gently closed the door behind him. Abel stood there speechless. Astounded. So Keeler wasn't going to do what he thought he was. Abel was somewhat disappointed, but all the same, relieved.

He took one look at Cain and ran after Keeler, thinking that perhaps for tonight Keeler would grant him access to the lab for the night.

And maybe save him a copy of that image.

* * *

**Fooled you! Admit it, you totally thought Keeler was going to get all smoochy with Abel! XD**


End file.
